


Put It On My Tab

by thecatsred



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anilingus, Barebacking, Caught, Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Finger Fucking, Fluff, M/M, Mildly Possessive Thoughts, Semi-Public Sex, Valentine's Day, mentions of:, mild jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:10:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13690839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecatsred/pseuds/thecatsred
Summary: With their target out of town, Jesse and Hanzo find a better way to spend their time during the holiday.





	Put It On My Tab

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cawaiiey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cawaiiey/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's day (shh I'm still awake so technically it's the same day for me)

They hadn’t even been in the bar for a half hour, and already McCree was ready to call this whole mission off. 

Dorado is a beautiful city at night, and oftentimes McCree would find himself down this way on his journeys, taking in the sights and sounds of the nightlife, partaking in his fair share of whiskey, or beer if his pockets were a bit lighter that month. 

Right now, the cool breeze coming in off the seaside into the bar should have calmed him down. The beer in his hand, warm and forgotten, maybe could have helped, if he wasn’t pretending to drink it. 

He knows his leg is bobbing up and down under the table, though he’s unable to stop the tick as he white-knuckles the bottle in his hand. Their target wasn’t anywhere around here, come to find out. They really should have shipped out when they realized their info was wrong the moment they touched down.

But Winston was a pretty convincing fellow, and made it sound like sitting in a bar being wholly useless while they gather intel or some such was a good idea. 

McCree had initially agreed to the impromptu reassignment because it meant spending time in a city he genuinely enjoyed with Hanzo. During the holidays, no less. The locals didn't celebrate Valentine's Day the same as they did in the states, but Jesse thought himself a romantic when it suited him.

He had wild ideas of stealing a  piñata  and crushing it on the floor of their shared room and eating all the candy out of it before he and Hanzo fall into bed with each other, take some stolen time to themselves. Maybe in the morning they’d grab a quick breakfast at a little café he remembered, show Hanzo around while they waited for extraction. 

The bottle makes a dangerous cracking sound and McCree has to let it go, pushes it in front of him with a slow, deep exhale. He’s had his eyes on Hanzo since he got in, a bit staggered from Hanzo’s entrance to make it look less like they were a team, and perhaps just some assholes off the street looking to burn a few hours and more than a few dollars on booze.

Hanzo has made himself a cozy spot in the far corner, back to the wall, wedged in the booth like he was. That in and of itself was smart, and McCree knew the man could handle himself should things get hairy. Hanzo’s positioning was not an issue here.

The positioning of some other man, however, has him feeling some sort of way.

And the look on Hanzo’s face makes it all the worse. 

Squished up in the booth with him, close enough for their thighs to touch, sits another man, leaning heavily over half the table into Hanzo’s space. He’s clearly smashed, drunk out of his mind, if the slurred sounds of his speech or the way he’s constantly adjusting his body as if he’s got almost no control of his limbs...which, well. It seems like that, really.

Hanzo’s humoring him, body tilted away as best he can manage, arms crossed over his chest with his shoulders drawn up. He’s got that awkward smile on his face, the one that doesn’t reach his eyes, and  _ boy _ that drives McCree up the wall. 

He can’t do anything though. Not without causing a scene and drawing attention to themselves. Their target might not be in here, but hell, most of his lackeys were still around. McCree recognizes more than one Los Muertos tattoo on the patrons of the bar.

He and Hanzo don’t need that kind of scrutiny when backup’s miles out and they’re only supposed to be observing. 

So he’ll sit here and wait for Hanzo to resolve the problem on his own. Hanzo doesn’t send him any wide-eyed glances, so he knows he’s got this. But that knowledge doesn’t make it any easier to watch. The drunk guy has moved in closer now, and one of his hands has snaked under the table, resting firmly on Hanzo’s knee. 

A little muscle in Hanzo’s jaw twitches, and Jesse can almost taste the fire that must be running through his veins right now. Hanzo is a ruthless man when tested, on and off the battlefield, and McCree eats up every second of the pure fury his lover unleashes upon those who deserve it the most. He sits up in his seat a little more, prepared for the show that was to come. 

Hanzo didn’t need to use his fists to bring people down. His sharp tongue could do the job just as well. Either way, Jesse would enjoy the hell out of this.

Only, nothing happens. Hanzo suffers more of that man’s sweaty hand on his knee, on his  _ thigh _ , and he laughs once, humorless, dry, but the guy eats it up and guffaws loud and ugly, his voice carrying throughout the bar and turning a couple heads. 

He leans into Hanzo once more, head tilted while he whispers something lewd, if the look on Hanzo’s face means anything. It’s when McCree sees the guy’s lips make contact with Hanzo’s neck that he can’t take any more. He’s standing before he even realizes what his legs are doing, and he’s halfway across the room when Hanzo snaps his head up, expression wary, but hopeful. 

There it is.

“Howdy there, sweet thing. This guy botherin’ ya?” McCree drawls, leaning his forearms on the table. His muscles bulge a little from the position, showing clearly though his jacket. A simple threat, easy enough to catch on for anyone in their right mind. 

Unfortunately, this man was too far gone. He slides himself up, both palms flat on the table, arms locked at the elbows. His head hangs down between his shoulders before he sends what would have been a fairly impressive glare McCree’s way. That is, if his eyes weren’t darting around rapidly, trying to focus on his face.

“Hey man, fu-fuck off. M’ saw ‘im first.” He grins, turning his whole torso in Hanzo’s direction. “‘S’nt that right, baby?”

Hanzo visibly recoils, disgust clear on his face. “Don’t ever call me that again.” He spits, voice like acid. The guy pauses, brows knitting together in confusion. 

“Th’ fuck?”

McCree has no interest in hearing him babble further. It’s almost laughable how little effort it takes him to reach out and push the man’s chest, causing him to go carrening backwards into the booth, ass hitting the leather hard. Someone at the counter has a bit of a laugh that turns into a cough, and the man sneers. 

“Fuck you, buddy. He ain’t yours,” He slurs, making the motion like he was going to try and right himself.

Hanzo slips out of the booth from the other side silently, chin held high as he presses his arm into Jesse.

McCree gives him a quick, dark look, full of promise. “Mm, y’know, that’s funny,” He starts, still exaggerating his accent a bit. “Because that’s exactly who he is.” He stands up now. At his full height, he towers over the other man, and it’s clear this guy has at least an ounce of self-preservation left in his body when he shrinks away.  _ Good _ , McCree thinks.  _ He’ll need it _ .

Hanzo winds an arm around his elbow, knocking into him with his hip, almost playful. He’s got a little sparkle of something in his expression when McCree looks down at him questioningly. 

“Best ya sit’chur ass right on down in this here seat, an’ leave my Honey well alone. Got that?”

The guy grumbles something out, not looking at either of them properly. But Jesse wants to make sure he’s not going to cause any further problems. He kicks the man’s shin with the tip of his boot. 

“I said,  _ got that _ ?” He asks again, pushing his thumbs through his belt loops. 

The guy hardly yelps at the pain, but he’s nodding his head anyway, looking put out and tired more than ready to start any sort of fight, which suits McCree just fine. But he still wants that verbal confirmation, for no reason but to embarrass the hell out of this guy, and his own sick satisfaction.

Hanzo seems to be expecting something more, too. He’s got his fingertips on the surface of the table, drumming steadily, waiting. 

“You’ll have t’ forgive me, but I can’t hear ya too well. What was that?” McCree leans in, hand by his ear, and he can see Hanzo out the corner of his eye stifling a laugh. 

Finally the man gives in. “I said fine.” He says, loud enough for the both of them to hear. “Leave me ‘lone,” He drags an abandoned glass of liquor over to his body and peers down into it. 

Jesse moves back as Hanzo pulls his fingers off the table. “Sure thing, pal.” He says, briefly reaching up to grab at a hat that isn’t there. He catches himself halfway, and Hanzo rolls his eyes, taking McCree’s hand from the air and bringing it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of his knuckles. 

“I’ve had enough of this bar for the night.” Hanzo whispers against his skin as they head towards the front. “I want to get that man’s stench off me as soon as possible.” He makes a face, a simple downturn at the corner of his lips, a tiny crease in his forehead.

It shouldn’t be so endearing on a grown man, but McCree lived for that pout. 

Before they leave, McCree turns to the bartender, an aging man he’s talked with several times in the past. “Put our drinks on my tab!” He gives the man a thumbs up when he merely rolls his eyes and gets back to wiping down the counter.

After they step into the street, Jesse tightens his arm around Hanzo’s, still looped with his own, and drags him around the side of the bar. “Let me be of assistance with that,” He says, crowding Hanzo against the colorful mural behind them. 

A street light buzzes in the plaza nearby, and some voices can be heard down at the other end of the sidewalk. In the alley they were mostly shielded from the light, but this area had a few outlets to other parts of the city, and it’s not unheard of to take shortcuts off the main road if someone didn’t wish to be seen. Hell, even Jesse had taken similar routes through the city at night, for his own reasons.

Still, that doesn’t deter him from chasing Hanzo’s shiver with a kiss to his jaw, down his neck. He leaves little nips here and there on the way down, ripping soft sounds from Hanzo’s throat all the while.

Hanzo wasn’t kidding about the stink, however. This guy must have drenched himself in aftershave before leaving his house.  _ What a mess. _

McCree pulls back from Hanzo’s neck, pissed off all over again. He’s about to turn around when Hanzo sighs and reaches up, weaving his fingers into the lapels of his jacket and pulls him closer. 

“Don’t you start something and then abandon it.” Hanzo chides, letting one hand fall off McCree’s jacket to finish unzipping his own, and pushing it off one shoulder. “Who was that Jesse in the bar, just now?”

McCree looks down at Hanzo, really  _ looks _ at him, trying to parse the question. “I’m right here, Sugar.”

Hanzo shakes his head slowly, eyes locked on McCree’s chest, his hands playing with his jacket again. “Doesn’t seem like it. Seems to  _ me _ ,” Hanzo starts, flicking his gaze up at McCree from under his eyelashes, and isn’t that just disarming as all hell, McCree thinks. “I left the bar with a different man. Show him to me again?” Hanzo moves away from the wall, just one step is all it takes for him to plaster himself against McCree. He knows damn well what he’s doing. And he knows damn well McCree will fall for it. He always does.

He can feel the heat from Hanzo’s body seeping through his clothing, a contrast to the cool sea air around them. He’s already on fire, but that just stokes the flames more. He smiles slowly, bringing his hand up to Hanzo’s chin. “I can do that,”

Hanzo nearly purrs, pleased as a cat in a patch of sunlight for having gotten his way. What a pair they made. “Show me.” Hanzo repeats, this time against McCree’s lips. 

He’s acting on autopilot now, one hand threading through Hanzo’s hair, the ribbon tangled in his fingers as he gets enough of a handful to pull Hanzo back some, expose his neck like this. Hanzo goes willingly, even slides a leg up the back of Jesse’s thigh to pull him in tighter. 

McCree presses him back into the wall and hefts him up with his free hand, pulling Hanzo up by the ass, slotting him right up against his crotch. He drags the sharp points of his teeth over Hanzo’s pulse point, sucking a deep mark into his skin, and Hanzo surges up into him with the most beautiful desperate whine. 

Jesse can feel Hanzo like this, hard against his belly. His own cock filling out and pressing against the fabric of his jeans. Hanzo would never admit it, but Jesse knows he’s got an exhibition streak a mile wide. Only issue is finding excuses to do something about it. So when an opportunity presents itself...

Hanzo’s hands scramble against McCree’s back, trying to find purchase on his jacket for anything to grab. He whines again, a soft, breathless sound, and presses his cheek against McCree’s day old stubble. 

McCree gets the picture right away and turns some more, crashing his lips against Hanzo’s own once he’s given access. Hanzo’s mouth is sweet, with an undercurrent of alcohol creeping in. Jesse swipes his tongue over Hanzo’s bottom lip, eager to get a better taste.

He lets go of Hanzo’s hair and slides his other hand under him. He lifts him up with a grunt, leaving some of the weight bearing to the wall and the rest to his arms. He’s never been more grateful for his prosthetic as he is in this moment when Hanzo cries out with a soft call of his name.

“ _ Jesse~! _ ” He moans, folding his legs around McCree’s waist and flinging his arms up over his shoulders. “Jesse, please.” Hanzo’s lips trail over McCree’s neck, wet and warm and promising.

Well. That’s one way to get him going.

McCree presses his knee into the wall, jostling Hanzo a little bit as he does his best to undo the button on his jeans. It’s proving a difficult task though, and by the time he’s gotten to his zipper, Hanzo’s having a hard time keeping a mirthful snicker to himself. 

“Jesse,” He starts, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to McCree’s nose. “Let me down first you stubborn man.” He pats gently at the side of Jesse’s face, his dark eyes absolutely filled with affection. “We can’t fuck with our pants on.”

McCree huffs, but is inclined to agree, even if he feels like some of the moment’s passed. But one look at Hanzo has him dashing away those thoughts. He knows that look he’s getting.

“Could given the time,” He says, slowly lowering Hanzo down until his feet touch the concrete. 

Hanzo kisses his cheek again in thanks, and goes about undoing his own jeans, laughter still coloring his words. “And then we’d have to walk home like that.”

Hanzo gets a mysterious glint in his eye. Something about the location must have him feeling bolder than usual, McCree thinks. Normally he’s more apt to let Jesse make the first move, but then he’s reaching out and palming McCree without much preamble. He lets out a shuddering breath that quickly turns into a gasp when Hanzo slips his fingers inside his boxers, searching.

McCree can’t help but jump back at the first contact, Hanzo’s fingers chilly but insistent. “Whoa there, warn a man next time.” He snorts, placing his hands over Hanzo’s hips.

Hanzo merely smiles, tucking his head up under McCree’s chin and letting his hand warm up while he whispers out a soft apology. They share a moment like that, standing in each other’s air, Hanzo’s fingers lightly playing across the soft skin of McCree’s cock till he can’t stand it anymore.

He nudges Hanzo’s hand over and pulls himself out, giving his cock a few strokes, amused at the way Hanzo’s gone almost entirely still, caught admiring him. 

“Ain’t gonna do ya much good, jus’ staring at it like that.” McCree quips, keeping one hand on himself while he tugs at Hanzo’s pants, trying to get them down. After a second, Hanzo seems to reboot, pulling his jeans and underwear down in one motion, his dick bobbing before it settles heavily against his thigh, already smearing pre over his exposed skin.

Jesse drags him forward, loving how malleable Hanzo makes himself when he wants something this badly. How easily he can be turned around and pushed, pulled into better positions. 

“Do me a favor an’ face the wall so I can get a look,” McCree turns Hanzo gently, urging him to spread his legs enough for him to slip between his parted thighs. Hanzo’s jeans get stuck somewhere around his knees, but there’s more than enough space to work with.

He settles one warm hand over the flesh of Hanzo’s ass, kneading it and pulling at it just enough to catch a glimpse of his hole. Hanzo shivers, exposed so thoroughly. He acts like he’s unaffected, but McCree’s not blind to the way he tilts his hips upwards ever so slightly, showing off and asking for more all at the same time. 

McCree stands there a tick too long, his thumb passing over the skin in feather light touches, not making to dip in, just teasing, and with each swipe Hanzo clenches around nothing, huffing out hot air in annoyance.

He’ll never get tired of this sight, could never imagine not wanting the man in front of him in all the ways a person could want another. Some ugly, primal thing in his gut rears up at the memory of that asshole in the bar touching Hanzo like he was wasn’t already  _ his _ .

He groans and leans his forehead against Hanzo’s shoulder, soaking in his warmth. His cock slides up over Hanzo’s ass in in the process, settling between his cheeks. Judging from Hanzo’s unhappy noises, this doesn’t help with the teasing at all.

“Say, darlin’,” McCree begins slowly, runnings his hands up and down Hanzo’s sides, speaking against the back of Hanzo’s neck while he thrusts lazily against him. “Ya don’t happen t’ have any lube, do ya?” He asks, already working out some alternatives to his plan, depending on the answer. He didn’t always think things like this through. 

Sometimes pulling your boyfriend into an alley for a quickie is just what you do. So sue him.

Luckily, that’s not the case for Hanzo. Apparently he’s used to McCree’s impulsive choices…

Hanzo skillfully hides his face behind his arm as he mutters out, “Would it be cliché to say I’ve got some in my back pocket?”

McCree could cry. “Don’t rightly care if it is, sweetheart.” He breathes, kissing Hanzo across his neck, running his hands down the curve of his back as he sinks to his knees to dig through Hanzo’s pockets. He catches Hanzo peeking at him from over his shoulder more than once. 

“Let me have it,” Hanzo says softly, wiggling his fingers at McCree once he’s successfully retrieved the small bottle. McCree lets it go willingly, watching with interest as Hanzo pours some out over his fingers, then reaches back.

_ Ah. _

Crouched behind him like this, McCree can’t take his eyes off Hanzo, even if he wanted to.

Hanzo circles his middle finger over his hole, rubbing the lube in a few times while he mirrors the motions Jesse made just moments earlier. He readjusts against the wall, his foot scraping over the gravel before he pushes the finger in with little ceremony.

Small, hitching breaths leave him each time he pulls out and pushes back in, and when he adds his ring finger, he turns his face away. 

McCree reaches up slowly and tugs one of Hanzo’s cheeks to the side to give himself a much better view. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he finds that he’s almost mesmerized with the twisting, grinding sort of way Hanzo works himself open for him. “Havin’ half a thought t’ jus’ eat you out right now.” He murmurs, turning his head and bending down enough to leave a sharp little nip on the meat of Hanzo’s ass.

“Hey!” Hanzo yelps, half out of surprise and half because he ends up crooking his fingers in deeper than he meant to.

McCree grins and places a ginger kiss over the mark he’s made, not at all an apology, but it doesn’t look like Hanzo minds much.

That is, until he starts talking again. 

“I know you’re real particular,” He starts, stressing the  _ ‘tic’  _ sound. “‘bout how y’ like it,” He leans his head on the back of Hanzo’s thigh and slides his hand under to grab at Hanzo's, thus far, entirely neglected dick. That just wouldn’t do. He gives it one soft tug, enough to get Hanzo’s attention, and to draw another beautifully desperate sound from him.

“But I also ‘rember ya comin’ apart at the seams last time, damn near shakin’ out yer skin and meltin’ into the couch. Didn’t think I could get it so deep, hm? You were all talk,” He whispers fondly, his hand on Hanzo only a loose hole for Hanzo to fuck up into, but he uses it all the same while he adds another finger inside. “Sayin’ how it never did nothin’ for ya.” He smiles, turns and presses another kiss over his bite mark. “Least not till ya met me.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Hanzo grits out, the side of his face pressed firmly against his bicep. “Stop being vulgar.” His words have no heat in them, so Jesse only chuckles and lets go of Hanzo’s dick, leaning back on his haunches once more.

“I’m not the one finger-fuckin’ myself in public, sweetheart.” He rises unsteadily back to his feet, nearly missing the glint of light flashing off Hanzo’s eyes as he sends a glare over his shoulder.

Unfortunately the threat is entirely ineffective, considering Hanzo currently has three fingers knuckles deep in his ass, and he hasn’t slowed down his motions this entire time.

McCree squeezes the base of his cock once for good measure, determined not to make a fool of himself after all that bravado. 

“Mmn,” Hanzo whines. He removes his fingers with a slick sound, some of the excess lube he’s used spilling out and sliding down his inner thigh. McCree watches the path it takes, mind already conjuring up crude images of what’s to follow.

Hanzo’s still got his face wedged against his arm, hiding it from McCree’s view. He tsks.

“Let me see ya, darlin’.” He says, so soft he’s afraid his words will get lost in the wind. But Hanzo hears him, like always, and lowers his arm. 

_ And what a sight he is... _

Hanzo’s face is a deep red, the flush spreading across his cheeks and over his nose, up into the tips of his ears and down onto his chest, just a touch. He’s been biting his lip, too, for how swollen it looks, how wet. McCree moans, eyes drooping as he crowds up against Hanzo.

Hanzo knows exactly what he’s doing too. He smirks and turns back away. 

“ _ Jesse _ ,” He urges, voice low and demanding. He places his hands on the wall in front of him. “ _ Hurry _ .”

Jesse wastes no more time after that, no siree.

He’s already got his cock in hand, slick with lube from the discarded bottle. He gives it one final tug, making sure he’s totally coated, and lines up. 

The spongy head of his cock brushes over Hanzo’s hole a few times, smearing the lube around without dipping inside. It’s driving Hanzo wild and he pushes back with a half bitten off curse on his tongue. 

“I said  _ hurry _ , Jesse.” He growls.

McCree takes the hint, loud and clear. “Got it,” He says. It only takes him a second more, and then he’s sliding in. Hanzo’s ass accepts his cock so easily, pulling Jesse in like he belonged there, slotted against him. Maybe he did in some way. He stills once he bottoms out, and plants his feet wider apart to get better leverage. 

Hanzo clenches down on him. “ _ Move _ .” He demands, giving McCree no time to savor the feeling of warmth enveloping his cock, nor the way Hanzo’s back arches like a cat’s when he’s getting stuffed full. 

There’s nothing else to do than follow Hanzo’s choked out order, so McCree does his absolute best not to let him down. He rolls his hips back, drawing his cock out entirely and reaches down to pull back his foreskin, exposing the whole of his purpling head to the air, before shoving straight back in without warning. 

Hanzo bucks forward with a gasp, his dick jerking and drooling out a fat drop of pre. “Yes,” Hanzo breathes, his words cut off as Jesse does much the same again, not pulling out all the way, but still snapping his hips up. 

Both of McCree’s hands are on Hanzo’s sides for the first minute or so of this rough treatment. Hanzo reduced to mere curses and incoherent muttering, occasionally getting out more than one word at a time.

He tilts his head back on a rather strong thrust, voice ringing out clear as ever in the alley. “Yes,  _ yes, Jesse! _ ” He moans, tossing his head to the side. McCree speeds up, spurred on by this display. “Yes _ , please...oh please-”  _ Hanzo swallows thickly, then lets his head hang between his shoulders as he focuses on fucking himself on McCree’s cock, hips rolling in tandem to McCree’s thrusts, chasing him with each retreat. “Gods, Jess-” He clips off the name, teeth clicking as he shuts his mouth so suddenly, even McCree’s spooked enough to slow down. 

That’s when he hears it, the crunching of loose bits of rock and dirt under someone’s shoes, the sound getting closer, too.

Jesse makes sure to regain his hold on Hanzo’s hips, snaking his flesh hand down to Hanzo’s cock, still hard as ever and pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He gives it a single stroke, enough to pull a hiss from him before he starts back up again, slowly this time, however. Just merely rocking his hips against Hanzo’s ass, cock hardly moving in him. Though from the angle, and judging based on Hanzo’s deep, full body shudder, the angle McCree’s found is perfect for adding the right amount of pressure... 

A dark shape ambles from around the corner, the person walking unsteadily, feet heavy as if laden with lead as the figure stalks over to the wall opposite the pair.

McCree’s still moving, testing how far Hanzo will allow him, and he’s surprised when no protest comes forth. Hanzo’s only panting gently, but from the strain on his face, McCree knows he’s aching to cry out, to beg and demand more from him, all he has to give. McCree’s ready to give him that anyway.

It’s when the person across the alley coughs that McCree truly recognizes the situation for what it is. The man standing there, a couple of yards up and more in the light than the two of them, is the very same from the bar. They both freeze at the sound of a zipper, and Hanzo darts a quick look at McCree from the corner of his eye. They come to some unspoken conclusion.

McCree picks up his pace once more, this time with one hand on Hanzo’s dick, stroking him in time with his thrusts, noisy from the lube and the slight echo off the buildings around them.

The guy seems oblivious to the whole thing, or he’s electing to ignore it while he finishes emptying his bladder along the wall. McCree doesn’t hear anything for a few seconds, and turns his head, still thrusting up into Hanzo when he makes eye contact.

He flashes a wolfish grin at the man who jumps from being caught, quickly tucking his dick away and scurrying off as fast as he’s able. 

Before he’s even fully turned the corner, Hanzo’s moaning out and scrambling to place his hand over McCree’s, trying to stop him. “I’m...fuck Jesse I’m so fu- I’m  _ so close _ , please,”

McCree takes a deep breath and leans over Hanzo, chin on his shoulder. “Liked that, did ya? Like bein’ watched while yer stuffed full of my cock, that it?” He smiles against Hanzo’s neck when Hanzo’s dick jumps harshly in his hand. “Like everyone knowin’ you’re mine. Wanna jus’ shout it out, don’t’cha? Go on, tell ‘em.” He urges, stroking faster with each soft noise.

Hanzo moans again, the only thing he manages to get out is a litany of, “Please,  _ please _ , Jesse, please I… gods I’m gonna come.  _ Please I need- _ ”

McCree kisses at his jaw. Hanzo starts to clench down around him even before the rest of his body tenses up, and then suddenly he’s shooting come all over the mural on the wall and down across McCree’s knuckles. He leans his head back, neck exposed, and whines while McCree’s sure to milk Hanzo of every last drop until he’s shaking and shying away from his touch.

Once he’s sure Hanzo’s looking at him, heavy lidded and panting, he brings his hand up to his mouth and licks away all the mess on his fingers, taking his time with it. The salty tang on his tongue makes him groan, and after a very fleeting encouragement from Hanzo, he’s thrusting back into him with a purpose.

Hanzo slumps against the wall but still does his best to chase Jesse’s movements. It would be commedable if either of them had any rhythm to speak of at the moment. 

He swallows, closing his eyes. “Close, darlin’.” He warns, not even bothering with the long strokes anymore, resorting to the quick, rabbit-fucking of someone truly lost in their lover’s embrace. 

Hanzo understand his words for what they really mean, bless him, and he gives McCree a weak smile. “Inside,” He says, and well, McCree doesn’t need to be told twice.

He gets in two more thrusts before he’s fit to burst, and then Hanzo pushes up on his tiptoes, anticipating. That’s what really does it. “ _ Fuck _ ,” Jesse grits out, grasping Hanzo’s hips so hard he’s afraid he might actually hurt him when he pulls him onto his cock fully.

Jesse doesn’t have time to think that maybe, perhaps, it would be a good idea to _not shout_ _out_ Hanzo’s name when he comes, but his brain’s cut off from the rest of him right now. All he can think about is the feeling of his cock pulsing inside Hanzo, shooting thick rope after rope of come into him, _claiming him_. 

Hanzo hums, pleased that McCree listened this time and didn't’ pull out, as he’s been known to do on occasion when clean up wasn’t an option. But, fuck it tonight, they’ve already done enough. What’s one more thing, right?

Finally, after what seems like too long a time and also mere seconds, McCree comes down from his high with a long, shuddering exhale. He lets go of Hanzo’s hips with an apologetic pat, and places one hand on Hanzo’s ass as he pulls out, curious.

Hanzo looks at him with a devilish smirk. “Want to see?” He asks with a deceptive innocence. 

If he had anything left to give, McCree’s certain his cock would have jumped back to attention in an instant at the question. “Show me.”

Hanzo’s grin doesn’t wane as he takes a moment to pull his pants up a little more, grabbing the waistband in his hand and pulling his pants forward as he bends at the knees slightly.

Then he’s tensing, and all McCree can hear is white noise as the first thick glob of come runs out of Hanzo’s ass onto the ground below. 

Hanzo adjusts his posture, pushing out more come, letting it drip out between them with an odd sort of glee. Some of it rolls sluggishly down over his balls, leaving a slick trail back up that Jesse wants to chase with his tongue. He keeps this to himself. For now.

Jesse whistles low and long, shaking his head once Hanzo’s gotten out all he can, some of the lube included. “God _ damn _ yer a piece a’ work, Honeybee.” He says in a hushed awe. He lets go of Hanzo’s ass with something akin to reluctance and finally tucks his cock away.

Hanzo won’t meet his eye when he turns around, likely embarrassed at the display despite being the one to initiate it. They’ve certainly come a long way since the beginning of their relationship, what with Hanzo outright demanding of Jesse what he wants sometimes. But when he’s the one to offer such things, he’s always unsure of himself. Jesse wishes he could help in some way, but all he has on offer is compliments and endless praise. He supposes that will have to do.

Hanzo seems to enjoy his words, in any case. Small victories. After some hasty clean up, Hanzo scrambles to collect his pants, not really too worse for wear after all that, though McCree doesn’t miss the way Hanzo’s dick’s half chubbed up again before he hides it away.

They stand facing each other for a long minute, pants up but unzipped, the sweat cooling on their bodies and making the both of them shiver when the next gust of wind hits them.

Hanzo’s the first to speak, his arms crossed, hands hidden against his sides. “We should head back to the hotel.” He says, glancing around to make sure nobody else had seen anything, or perhaps to determine their escape route, if somebody had.

They were still technically on a mission, after all, McCree remembers with a sharp clarity. “Good idea.” He agrees, zipping his fly and reaching up to adjust a hat that was, unfortunately for him, still not there. Bit too easily identifiable, he’d told Hanzo when they left the room that morning. Even then, he misses it.

McCree reaches out for Hanzo’s arm, looping them together once Hanzo’s presentable, and together they head back to the hotel in comfortable silence. That doesn’t mean there’s not a million things going on in McCree’s head, far from it, and from the distant look in Hanzo’s eyes, he’s in much a similar state, enjoying the afterglow and the company during the walk home.

McCree stops them a few blocks out and veers off a bit over to a vender spot that was closed for the evening. The evidence of a party litters the street around, many  piñatas, or their remains at least, and bottles of beer sit all over every available surface. Some of the piñatas are still hanging overhead, but unfortunately busted open once he checks them. McCree begins to lose hope in his earlier plans when he can’t find one intact, then Hanzo calls him over. 

“Got one,” He says, standing back up and bringing with him a small green and yellow piñata, shaped like a little star. He holds it out to McCree with a smile. 

McCree pulls him against his side and presses a warm kiss to the top of his head. “It’s perfect, thank you.” He says when they head to the road again. 

Hanzo turns to him, the piñata held against his chest. “What did you want it for?”

McCree shrugs. “I wanted us to smash it open an’ get fat off the candy inside, what else?”

Hanzo gives him a look, but doesn’t argue against it, so McCree counts that as a win. 

Once they are inside their room, Hanzo toes off his shoes and goes to sit in one of the stiff leather chairs, and Jesse shrugs off his jacket. 

“Back at the bar,” Hanzo starts, picking little pieces of the colorful paper off the piñata in his lap. “Were you  _ jealous _ ?” 

McCree sputters, one of his arms trapped in his shirt sleeve as he turns to look at Hanzo like he’s grown three heads. “Jealous?” He asks, voice disbelieving. “Of some drunken bastard? Please, darlin’. I trust you not t’ go galavantin’ off on a whim.” He huffs and finishes disrobing as Hanzo pulls up his feet and tucks them under his legs.

“I know, I know. That’s not what I meant…” He picks more paper off, the thin squares floating down to the carpet. “It’s...I liked that. Back there.” He turns, fingers idly pinching the paper as he looks at McCree. “That side of you, I’d not seen before. Not really. Not like that.” He smiles a little crookedly, a fresh blush blooming across his cheeks, and he has to duck his head down. “I wouldn’t mind exploring that further...provided next time we leave the drunk man out of the equation entirely.” He laughs and leans forward enough to set the plucked piñata on the side table. “How does that sound?”

McCree strides across the room and up behind Hanzo’s chair, laying himself over the back of it with his arms draping on Hanzo’s shoulders. He nuzzles against Hanzo’s neck as he answers, lips brushing over the stubble Hanzo had grown throughout the day. “I’m thinkin’ we can definitely work somethin’ out in the future.”

He stands up some, his fingers digging into thick cords of muscle, massaging out some of the tension from the evening. Hanzo nearly melts in his chair. “But right now, I’m far more interested in spending some time with ya here, where it’s relatively safe, and mostly private.” He keeps working his fingers into Hanzo shoulders even as he noses at Hanzo’s hair, placing kisses here and there at the top of his head. “Kept gettin’ split up durin’ missions. Missed ya pretty bad these last few months. It’s good jus’ being with you.”

Hanzo smiles and tilts his head back, kissing Jesse upside down with only a bit of difficulty. He places one hand over Jesse’s, squeezing it. “I know the feeling.” He says softly, then gently unfolds himself from the chair. “I think we could benefit from a shower first.”

Jesse laughs, returning Hanzo’s smile as he follows him to the bathroom. “I’m thinkin’ yer right.” 

Later, once they are cleaned and dried, with their bellies full of stolen cheap candies, the two sit nestled up against one another in bed, content to sit in silent contemplation. Hanzo has his head  against McCree’s bare chest, their legs tangled beneath the sheets, hands clasped over the blankets, arranged in such a way that betrayed their silent fight for who got to put their hand on the very top. Hanzo won this round, though McCree kept cheating by lifting Hanzo’s hand and kissing his knuckles in a mirror of Hanzo’s move at the bar hours ago. 

Another half hour passes, and McCree can no longer keep his eyes open. They scoot under the warm blankets together, finally settling for the night. McCree’s nearly asleep when he opens his eyes to the sound of his name, whispered so sweetly, so softly, he almost didn’t realize it came from Hanzo himself.

“Jesse?”

“Hm?”

Hanzo reaches out and cups Jesse’s jaw in his hand. 

“I love you,” He says, leaning in.

Jesse smiles and meets Hanzo halfway in a tender kiss. “I love you, too.” 

Hanzo chuckles against his mouth, presses one kiss to the corner of his lips, then moves away. 

“Goodnight.”

Jesse pulls Hanzo close, tucks him up under his chin with his arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Goodnight, Hanzo.”


End file.
